The Men in her Life

well as smoking?’
    ‘No, but I’m going out tonight. I don’t want to be drunk.’
    ‘Why change the habits of a lifetime? Oh, don’t tell me, because you’re getting married. Look, I’m as pleased as everyone else about that... well, actually, I’m not... I much preferred you as a tortured old maid to a happy spoken-for...’
    Holly laughed but refused to move from her seat. ‘Don’t go boring on me, Holly,’ Robert pleaded, ‘you’re my only friend here...’
    ‘Any other evening, Robert, but I have to write this letter...’
    ‘Oh well, fuck off then.’
    The office emptied for the evening. Holly closed her window. It was getting dark outside and the air was chilly, autumnal.
    She looked at the piece of paper in front of her, then began to write.
    ‘Dear Clare,
    ‘I know that there are no excuses, but...’
    She tore the piece of paper in two and threw it at the bin. You couldn’t say there were no excuses then start listing them.
    ‘Dear Clare,
    ‘I don’t know what to say to you...’
    So why was she writing?
    ‘Dear Clare,
    ‘What happened with Joss...’
    No, she must not mention Joss. No point in trying to blame him. This letter was all about taking responsibility herself. And, if he happened to read it, she did not want Joss thinking that she thought about him for even a second.
    ‘Dear Clare,
    ‘Words cannot express...’
    Bin.
    The clock ticked on. She had to send it tonight. If she didn’t, Clare would not get it in time.
    ‘Dear Clare,
    ‘I’ve thought of a million reasons why I did what I did, but none of them excuse it, so I won’t waste your time, but I am very sorry. I don’t suppose that I even deserve to be forgiven but I loved having you as a sister. I’m finally doing something I know you will approve of, see enclosed. We’d both love you to be there, but it’s probably too much to ask.
    ‘I got an invitation from your mother to Jack’s premiere and I was really touched to be included, but obviously won’t be coming because I’ll be on my honeymoon. I am going to write to her separately to tell her that.
    ‘I hope we may be able to be friends one day. I would like that a lot and I know Simon would too. He sends his love, as does
    Holly.’
    Holly read it through, then wrote out an envelope and put it in along with a printed wedding invitation. They were getting married in a restaurant in Holland Park with dinner for about twenty afterwards. She was about to seal it up when she remembered she had forgotten to say the most important thing. She unfolded the letter and scribbled at the bottom:
    ‘PS I will be moving out of my flat because we’re going to buy a house in Brighton, but I can’t bear to give up the tenancy, so would Ella like to have it with some of her mates when she comes up to medical school?’

    ‘What are you going to wear?’ asked Colette.
    They were standing chatting in the cramped space between the sinks and the cubicle doors in the Ladies’ room at Holly’s club. Colette was retouching her lipstick.
    ‘I thought the English Eccentrics dress. When I saw it I knew it would be perfect for a wedding, I just didn’t realize which wedding,’ Holly replied.
    ‘But hasn’t Simon seen it?’ Blot.
    ‘So?’
    ‘It’s unlucky...’ Colette bared her teeth at the mirror.
    ‘I don’t believe in all that old and new and borrowed and blue stuff...’
    ‘If you don’t believe in it so much, why are you bothering to get married at all?’
    ‘Because we’ve known each other so long as friends, and now it’s different from how it was, d’you know what I mean? It’s like we’re making a statement to the world. Things have changed. We’re now bonking too...’
    ‘What colour is it, the dress?’
    ‘Sort of bluey, greeny turquoisy, you know how devoré velvet is...’
    ‘Married in green, wish you’d never been...’
    ‘Oh shut up.’
    ‘What’s it like, anyway?’ Colette extracted a tissue from her handbag, carefully folded it to a point, licked it, then removed a smudge of mascara she had detected under her right eyelashes.
    ‘I’ve just told you.’
    ‘Not the dress, the bonking...’
    ‘Gorgeous,’ said Holly, ‘what’s the word? I know, consensual... it’s the most consensual sex I’ve ever had...’
    One of the doors to the toilets opened and two women emerged.
    Colette and Holly exchanged looks. Women’s toilets were a bit like a confessional, you could do or say almost anything there and nobody would